


Reflected Moonlight

by Iridescent_Ren



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: KuroMahi, M/M, character introspection, unedited, valentines exchange fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 03:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17780006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iridescent_Ren/pseuds/Iridescent_Ren
Summary: Mahiru smiled like the sunflowers on their window sill, and everything Kuro touched turned to dust. The night's quiet whisper said he wasn't allowed to belong, wasn't allowed to accept the gentle warmth that had begun to envelop everything he did. But the night would always end, the morning light would always come.Sometimes the morning light was in the form of a knock.





	Reflected Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cyl for the valentines exchange! I tried to include some of the stuff I've seen you tweet/talk about, but pls go easy on me its been over a year since ive even touched servamp or read it so it might be rlly ooc shdjhjg

Light streamed through the open curtains, the golden sun almost too bright to touch, to stare- or maybe that was just Mahiru's smile. It just reached a line, leaving the kitchen basking in a gentle warmth, not quite sun, but not quite darkness. He was sure Mahiru wished to be in the sun, it suited him, really. 

The sun was kind. It illuminated the world in something hopeful, like the sunflowers that Mahiru had planted in little pots on the window sill, or like the cinnamon spice smell in his ruffled up hair. Kuro never dared to get too close. The sun was out of his reach, a line he could never cross even as he grasped for it with open, broken hands. 

But Mahiru still claimed to want him. 

Claimed to trust him, with everything he had. It was dangerous. The power Kuro held in his hands made for hurt, the life he held in his palms that transformed to black, sharp, weapons. Mahiru trusted, he gave it out like it was nothing, no matter how easily it could turn on him. It'd be so easy. 

Or it would've been, before Mahiru began to gently led him out of the grave he dug for himself, began to show him the light of the sky and the pretty way it lit up just at the mark of dawn, he made a promise to himself. A resolve deep in his chest, that he'd protect him. Kuro would rather burn the world than live in one without him in it. 

In eyes like blood and ruin, he was perfect. Mahiru planted life on their window sill, and Kuro could only destroy. Even as he draped himself over his shoulder, eyes half-lidded with a cheeky remark and a familiar banter. Even then, he'd keep his heart beyond arms reach, feeling the iron plated ribcage in his chest. 

"You've gotta learn some time, you know! You can't just survive off instant ramen," Mahiru scolded, walking into the lounge room with a pastel orange apron, resting his hand on his lip and pouting his lips. Kuro looked him up and down, pushing down a snort at his attire and typical attitude. 

"Ugh, you're such a housewife…" he groaned and commented. Kuro wouldn't mention that he knew how to cook, that he'd known for a couple centuries now. He wouldn't mention it for no reason at all. He spluttered as a projectile aimed at his face crashed into him, a matching blue apron. "No way," he whined, dragging out the last syllable far more than necessary. 

"I'm not! It's basic life skills that everyone should know! You're just being dramatic, come on Kuro, please?" Mahiru huffed at him, softening his eyes in a way that shouldn't be legal. The glisten in his brown eyes like the earth, it was grounding and reliable. It was home. Mahiru had become his home. The thought made him weak at the knees. It was bittersweet, a fall onto clouds, but a fall none the less. 

And once the clouds disappear, there'll be nothing left but ashes and withering flowers. 

"Kuro?"

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes in a final act of protest, his feet finding their way over to the kitchen like it was natural, like he was right where he was meant to be. His stuttering heart betrayed him as Mahiru smiled so bright he thought he was going to transform right then and there, it was… easy, to make him happy like that. It came naturally. 

Like making him happy was just what he was made to do. Like his hands had a purpose beyond hurt, beyond fighting.

"Alright, we're gonna start super simple! Kāre Raisu, you mentioned liking it before right?" Mahiru introduced, spinning Kuro around to tie the string on his apron behind him. He couldn't see it, but he didn't need too to know it was a perfect bow. Simple is best, or whatever. 

"Sure," Kuro mumbled back, eyes scanning the ingredients. Had he said that? Probably. It was a lie to say he didn't enjoy almost all of Mahiru's cooking, the housewife qualities shining through. Dinner was always simple- of course it was -but it still managed to be full of flavour. 

Nothing really beat instant ramen though. 

…

"Can I go now-" Mahiru didn't let Kuro finish, already man-handling him over to the chopping board where he walked around the kitchen with enough purpose and grace that he might as well be dancing. He seemed to know every cupboard, every inch off the back of his hand, sliding around the front and back of Kuro as he grabbed everything he thought they'd need. Kuro could only stand, dumbly awestruck. 

"Vegetables. Chop." Mahiru ordered him with a sort of commanding tone, like a small puppy trying to bark. He let a fond expression pass over his face for only a moment, his heart reaching out for some kind of contact, some kind of connection. A faded red string curled around his pinky finger, tugging him closer. 

Kuro ripped away.

He went to start chopping, pulling out the carrots with a grunt of annoyance but getting the job done anyway. He had time for excruciatingly drawing things out later. Now he had more pressing matters to contain and repress, like the feeling of Mahiru pressing against his back, arms lining up with his own as they adjusted his position. All he could feel was the hot breath against his neck and the caramel sweet smell that intoxicated his mind and sent him spiralling down. 

"There! That way it'll be faster, it’s a little trick my Uncle taught me!" Mahiru slowly pulled away, and Kuro didn't- couldn't, look. But even then, he didn't need to look to feel the bright smile, to feel that precious way Mahiru looked at him, everything he wanted so badly but knew he didn't deserve. 

He could feel the lingering ghost of hands on his, his imagination trying to create the feeling of small fingers intertwined with his. What a pain. Whatever this shitty feeling was, he'd contain it until it went away entirely. Until a loud gasp aggressively pulled him from his thoughts, his eyes drawn back down to where his finger drew blood. 

"Oh. Bothersome," he put his finger in his mouth with a shrug, watching as Mahiru shook his head and fussed around about washing it properly. He came back with a little band-aid, forcefully taking Kuro's hand to put it on in the aggressive hospitality that he'd grown used to. 

"You have to be more careful, jeez Kuro! You could really hurt yourself…" Mahiru exhaled a sigh, like Kuro's existence took away ten years of his lifespan. 

He grunted in acknowledgement, "'s not like I can die anyway," he looked down at the band-aid, noticing the cheesy, pink, Disney princess pattern and snickering. 

"Not! The! Goddamn! Point!" Mahiru lightly hit him on the head for every word, frowning, "you can still get hurt! You can't- ah… it's the only one I could find, I have to go shopping- stop looking at me like that!" Mahiru flushed in embarrassment, trying to explain himself.

"A princess boy ehhh?" Kuro commented, getting another hit to the head. 

"So what! Disney princesses are cool…" 

Kuro had never wanted to be a princess more. He leant against the familiar marble kitchen counter, with ease, he knew where everything was. All the drawers were orderly and organized, cups on the right, plates on the left. Every day, it became more like home, more like a place he truly belonged. The only place he could ever see himself belonging, was right by Mahiru's side. 

"Never seen 'em, show me them," he mumbled, rolling his eyes to the floor as if he could somehow avoid the way Mahiru lit up in excitement. "I'll take that as a 'I don't have to finish cooking?' great, thanks," he summed up, heading back to the couch. Mahiru groaned, but even then his excitement didn't dim. 

"I'll finish cooking you lazy cat, I just haven't had a movie night in a long time…" 

Kuro wanted to have a 'movie night'. He wanted to see all the things Mahiru liked, wanted to see the look on his face whenever he was happy, every expression just a little different, every crease of his face just put together to make up him. He wouldn't change a thing about Mahiru for the world, God, he couldn't imagine a world without him. The intensity of his own feelings terrified him to his core, like his heart had grown so blindingly red that it hurt.

"Kuro? Hello? Are you okay? You've been a little off all night, if I've been too harsh on you…"

Mahiru's concern washed over him, drowning out any words that wanted to spill, choking him and stealing the breath from his lungs. And it hurt. It hurt, the way he looked, how much he cared. He'd known it from the start, and it'd never been a problem before, until he started to notice. 

Until the way Mahiru's eyelashes gently blinked in confusion whenever he didn't understand something, the way dimples rose up in his cheeks when he laughed so hard he had to hold his stomach, the way he'd get sleepy so early in the night and mumble sweet nothings just by Kuro's ear sending shivers down his spine. Until he noticed how his figure would fit perfectly against his, how easy it'd be to snake his arms around his smaller waist, how nothing was stopping him from pressing a kiss to his rose red lips. 

Fuck. 

Kuro had dealt with complicated feelings before, but this was uncharted territory, red clouding all of his better judgement. He wasn't made for love, like a hamster cage that kept him running around the wheel in circles, without an end, without an exit. He wanted out.

The last thing he wanted to do was lock Mahiru out again. Getting too close would burn them both, straying too far would rip his chest out from the seams. He bit his lip, the tip of his fang drawing a line of blood. And all he could do was bleed, and bleed until he'd given everything he had to Mahiru, bleed until he had nothing left and Mahiru was gone. 

"I'm napping," he mumbled, standing up abruptly. All the walls seemed to crash around him, rubble of his insecurity falling around him as he somehow managed to fluff up his hood, covering his face and turning his back. He rushed past the open bathroom door- he didn't want to know what kind of expression he'd been making. 

He didn't want to see the dark lines drawn under his eyes that stretched like darkened horizons, the gap between his turned back and Mahiru's confused hurt seemed all too far to try and bridge. He shut the door behind him, because the morning could only rise after the cold nights left. 

'The sun can't shine without the moon, Kuro. I need you.'

Words rung in his head, and all he could do was lie down and try to drown it out, muffling his ears with a pillow that smelt all too much like warm toasted marshmallows over a bright campfire, sickeningly sweet and so him. Kuro curled in on himself, pale fingers curling around the loose sheets strewn over the bed.

It hurt. 

Exhaustion withered away at his bones, his mind racing to thoughts of how easy it'd be to give up. How easy it'd be to… figure out a way to stop, to stop feeling this, to stop hurting like this. But a part of him screamed-

No!

No matter how it hurt, the feelings he had kept him by Mahiru's side, gave him the thrill of those roller-coasters that Mahiru hated without moving a muscle. He didn't want his feelings to disappear, but as he reached for them, the fog only thickened. 

His ears only just managed to pick up the creak of the door opening just a crack, footsteps nervously pacing outside as if rehearsing for a middle school play. He blinked an eye at the light that streamed in a straight line directly to him, like light itself wanted Mahiru to find him. 

A moment of silence, a calm in the storm. Two gentle knocks against the wooden barrier that protected him and kept him beyond where it people could find him. But this was Mahiru. Mahiru wasn't just people. 

"Hey, it's me… can I come in?" A worried voice called through, and knowing him, it wasn't a choice. He'd barge through and force his insecurities out the window if it killed him. But he wouldn't change a thing. 

"I guess," he mumbled through the sheets, and maybe it'd be easier to hide if he was in his cat form. If he transformed into his little- and frankly, adorable, cat form, then none of this would matter. Cats could hide under bed frames and large doonas, cats could hide from a gentle, reaching hand. 

Mahiru didn't give him the chance, hugging him from behind and burying his face in the back of his shoulder. His own skin felt ice cold in comparison, his mouth frozen shut from the dripping icicles of his cruel mind, and all he could do was feel warm breath against his just like before. 

Like before in the kitchen, but much more. A parallel of being as close as physically possible, but it still wasn't enough.

It wasn't their casual touches, the way Kuro would lean into his hand without hesitation, or the way Mahiru would thread his hands through Kuro's hair when he was stressed. Sometimes he'd make small little braids adorning his forehead, Kuro was too lazy to take them out. (They felt too special to destroy.) 

He could practically hear Mahiru's heart nervously beating, why was he nervous? Why wasn't he speaking uttering a word?

"W-whatever it is, that’s bothering you, I'm here. No matter what, okay big kitty?" Mahiru spoke, a dumb nickname he'd call him sometimes rolling off his tongue like it was meant to be there, doing things to him that he wouldn't speak of, his voice just above a breathy whisper for the two of them alone. It felt like he hadn't finished, words stuck like stones in his throat. 

Something about the way he said his words, or the way the nickname pulled all the right or wrong chords in him, made the corners of his eyes sting with emotions in small tear drops. Mahiru didn't comment on it, but he could feel himself being held a little tighter. 

The hems of his well-worn jacket had begun to fray, he curled them around his finger out of habit, instinct to reach for something, anything to keep him grounded, to keep his thoughts realistic. But his heart had well drifted from realistic the second Mahiru called him 'big kitty' with that fond tone of voice. 

He pulled away, turning to face Mahiru before lying his head in his lap, a moment of impulse and craving. Mahiru seemed surprised, at first, breath picking up in the air before relaxing and bringing his hands up to brush Kuro's hair out of his face. His eyes fluttered open, vibrant red meeting earthy brown, Mahiru's own cheeks dusted with peach-coloured highlights. 

"Sorry," he didn't even know himself what he was apologizing for, but no other words would coordinate in his head with Mahiru looking at him like that. 

"Nah, this is where you say thank you, lazy ass," Mahiru let out a small laugh that Kuro could see rise and fall in his chest, and in that moment he wanted nothing more but to kiss that air right from out of his lungs. But Mahiru was always straight to the punch. "Simple is best, gotta be direct," Mahiru muttered to himself so quiet that Kuro almost missed it. He tilted his head lightly, curiously watching-

Mahiru leant down to where Kuro lay, and everything set off like fireworks, if fireworks sounded like the breath stolen from your lungs, if fireworks looked like the colour exploding in both of their faces, if fireworks felt like heaven, cherries and soft lips awkwardly placed against your own. The world fell into place, and everything he'd feared was drowned out by the overwhelming sound of his heart thumping out in the beat of their own, special, rhythm. 

Mahiru leant back, taking a deep breath with shifty eyes and fumbling limbs, like he'd absolutely lose it if he didn't find a broom right that very instant and start a house wide spring clean. 

"I like you! I'm sorry for kissing you without asking that might've been weird! I liked it though, I think, Oh God, simple is best, so, I think it started," Mahiru began his speech through nervous intakes of air, before Kuro rose up to meet his lips again. Why did he do that? He couldn't say. But the feeling of sparks, of life and of home- he couldn't fight it. He wouldn't, not for the world. 

Some people might've thought of balloons, big signs and posters, festival evenings with a perfect setup and a perfect conclusion. Mahiru lay down on their bed, putting his hands to his face and laughing with utter relief, the sheets shifted around him and in the dark room he practically glowed. In that moment, in eyes like roses and affection, he was perfect. 

Kuro rolled on top of him, placing his head down on his chest and comfortably feeling the way Mahiru grunted and gasped for air with the heavy weight on top of him. Maybe things would change between them. But so long as he could keep this moment stored away, so long as Mahiru would keep running gentle hands through his hair and treating him like something worthy of the world, then maybe it was okay. They'd figure something out, he was sure of it, because for once in his life the voice of insecurity and past pain was silent, replaced by Mahiru's voice stuttering with a cute nervous wobbly expression that he liked him. 

He liked him.

Mahiru fit in Kuro's arms perfectly, so he'd found. The night complimented the day, and the day can't shine without the night. In harmony under tangled sheets and soft smiles, there was nothing in the world that could touch them.


End file.
